The New Collected Short Stories Read online

  Then he recalled the face of the woman who had slipped past him at the auction house. Of course, it had been his brother’s secretary. The second time he had misjudged someone.

  ‘What an irony,’ he said out loud. ‘If Hugh had put the set up for sale at Sotheby’s, he could have held on to the Louis XIV table and had the same amount left over. Still, as Pauline would have said, it’s the thought that counts.’

  He was writing a thank-you note to his brother when the phone rang again. It was Frank, reliable as ever, reporting in on his meeting with Hugh.

  ‘Your brother has signed all the necessary documents, and the shares have been transferred as requested.’

  ‘That was quick work,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘The moment you gave me instructions last week, I had all the legal papers drawn up. You’re still the most impatient client I have. Shall I bring the share certificates round on Thursday evening?’

  ‘No,’ said Cornelius. ‘I’ll drop in this afternoon and pick them up. That is, assuming Pauline is free to drive me into town.’

  ‘Am I missing something?’ asked Frank, sounding a little bewildered.

  ‘Don’t worry, Frank. I’ll bring you up to date when I see you on Thursday evening.’

  Timothy arrived at The Willows a few minutes after eight the following evening. Pauline immediately put him to work peeling potatoes.

  ‘How are your mother and father?’ asked Cornelius, probing to discover how much the boy knew.

  ‘They seem fine, thank you Uncle. By the way, my father’s offered me the job of shop manager. I begin on the first of next month.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Cornelius. ‘I’m delighted. When did he make the offer?’

  ‘Some time last week,’ replied Timothy.

  ‘Which day?’

  ‘Is it important?’ asked Timothy.

  ‘I think it might be,’ replied Cornelius, without explanation.

  The young man remained silent for some time, before he finally said, ‘Yes, it was Saturday evening, after I’d seen you.’ He paused. ‘I’m not sure Mum’s all that happy about it. I meant to write and let you know, but as I was coming back for the auction, I thought I’d tell you in person. But then I didn’t get a chance to speak to you.’

  ‘So he offered you the job before the auction took place?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Timothy. ‘Nearly a week before.’ Once again, the young man looked quizzically at his uncle, but still no explanation was forthcoming.

  Pauline placed a plate of roast beef in front of each of them as Timothy began to reveal his plans for the company’s future.

  ‘Mind you, although Dad will remain as Chairman,’ he said, ‘he’s promised not to interfere too much. I was wondering, Uncle Cornelius, now that you own 1 per cent of the company, whether you would be willing to join the board?’

  Cornelius looked first surprised, then delighted, then doubtful.

  ‘I could do with your experience,’ added Timothy, ‘if I’m to go ahead with my expansion plans.’

  ‘I’m not sure your father would consider it a good idea to have me on the board,’ said Cornelius, with a wry smile.

  ‘I can’t think why not,’ said Timothy. ‘After all, it was his idea in the first place.’

  Cornelius remained silent for some time. He hadn’t expected to go on learning more about the players after the game was officially over.

  ‘I think the time has come for us to go upstairs and find out if it’s Simon Kerslake or Raymond Gould who becomes Prime Minister,’ he eventually said.

  Timothy waited until his uncle had poured himself a large brandy and lit a cigar – his first for a month – before he started to read.

  He became so engrossed in the story that he didn’t look up again until he had turned the last page, where he found an envelope sellotaped to the inside of the book’s cover. It was addressed to ‘Mr Timothy Barrington’.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  Cornelius would have told him, but he had fallen asleep.

  The doorbell rang at eight, as it did every Thursday evening. When Pauline opened the door, Frank handed her a large bunch of flowers.

  ‘Oh, Mr Barrington will appreciate those,’ she said. ‘I’ll put them in the library.’

  ‘They’re not for Mr Barrington,’ said Frank, with a wink.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what’s come over you two gentlemen,’ Pauline said, scurrying away to the kitchen.

  As Frank dug into a second bowl of Irish stew, Cornelius warned him that it could be their last meal together at The Willows.

  ‘Does that mean you’ve sold the house?’ Frank asked, looking up.

  ‘Yes. We exchanged contracts this afternoon, but on the condition that I move out immediately. After such a generous offer, I’m in no position to argue.’

  ‘And how’s the search for a new place coming along?’

  ‘I think I’ve found the ideal house, and once the surveyors have given the all clear, I’ll be putting an offer in. I’ll need you to push the paperwork through as quickly as possible so that I’m not homeless for too long.’

  ‘I certainly will,’ said Frank, ‘but in the meantime, you’d better come and camp out with me. I’m all too aware what the alternatives are.’

  ‘The local pub, Elizabeth or Margaret,’ said Cornelius, with a grin. He raised his glass. ‘Thank you for the offer. I accept.’

  ‘But there’s one condition,’ said Frank.

  ‘And what might that be?’ asked Cornelius.

  ‘That Pauline comes as part of the package, because I have no intention of spending all my spare time tidying up after you.’

  ‘What do you think about that, Pauline?’ asked Cornelius as she began to clear away the plates.

  ‘I’m willing to keep house for both of you gentlemen, but only for one month. Otherwise you’d never move out, Mr Barrington.’

  ‘I’ll make sure there are no hold-ups with the legal work, I promise,’ said Frank.

  Cornelius leant across to him conspiratorially. ‘She hates lawyers, you know, but I do think she’s got a soft spot for you.’

  ‘That may well be the case, Mr Barrington, but it won’t stop me leaving after a month, if you haven’t moved into your new house.’

  ‘I think you’d better put down that deposit fairly quickly,’ said Frank. ‘Good houses come on the market all the time, good housekeepers rarely.’

  ‘Isn’t it time you two gentlemen got on with your game?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Cornelius. ‘But first, a toast.’

  ‘Who to?’ asked Frank.

  ‘Young Timothy,’ said Cornelius, raising his glass, ‘who will start as Managing Director of Barrington’s, Chudley, on the first of the month.’

  ‘To Timothy,’ said Frank, raising his glass.

  ‘You know he’s asked me to join the board,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘You’ll enjoy that, and he’ll benefit from your experience. But it still doesn’t explain why you gave him all your shares in the company, despite him failing to secure the chess set for you.’

  ‘That’s precisely why I was willing to let him take control of the company. Timothy, unlike his mother and father, didn’t allow his heart to rule his head.’

  Frank nodded his approval as Cornelius drained the last drop of wine from the one glass they allowed themselves before a game.

  ‘Now, I feel I ought to warn you,’ said Cornelius as he rose from his place, ‘that the only reason you have won the last three encounters in a row is simply because I have had other things on my mind. Now that those matters have been resolved, your run of luck is about to come to an end.’

  ‘We shall see,’ said Frank, as they marched down the long corridor together. The two men stopped for a moment to admire the portrait of Daniel.

  ‘How did you get that back?’ asked Frank.

  ‘I had to strike a mean bargain with Pauline, but we both ended up with what we wanted.’

  ‘But